


Reception

by Willa Shakespeare (AnonEhouse)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, FIx It, HEX - Freeform, Happy Ending, M/M, Post Gauda Prime, Wedding Rings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 17:48:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1275436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Willa%20Shakespeare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Avon doesn't want to live without Blake. He's still wearing the wedding ring Blake was going to give him if only Avon hadn't been a trigger-happy idiot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reception

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by ['Til Death](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/39031) by Belatrix Carter. 



(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

The trigger clicked. Empty. The gun was empty. Disbelieving, Avon pulled the trigger again. He would have tried a third time, but the weapon was yanked out of his hand.

"He's alive! Medic!" A rebel in a filthy uniform knelt down beside Avon and began pulling him away from Blake. "It's all right, you're safe. We're not Feds," the man said, misinterpreting Avon's desperate grab at the rebel's gun. "Oh, no... Blake?" Avon was wrestled roughly to one side, and everything became very dim and foggy, as frantic voices receded into the distance. 

Let me die with Blake! Avon screamed silently, but no one heard.

***

Avon woke in a dimly-lit, deathly quiet medical unit, knowing before he awoke that his luck was still against him. He was alive, to what end? The rebels couldn't be so foolish as to forgive the death of their leader. They must be keeping him alive for trial. No! He couldn't bear that, not listening as his stupid, senseless act was repeated before Blake's followers, not sitting there in a mocked-up courtroom pretending that he wanted to live, despite Blake's death. But he couldn't, wouldn't, tell them the truth. They must never know that Avon had killed- murdered- his love and wanted nothing more than his own death.

He was alone in a small room, securely strapped to a bed, with a line dripping something into his vein. Blood-plasma, the writing on the bag said when he craned his neck in hope it was something lethal. They wouldn't let him die. They'd give him the best of care, all so they could rip his heart out in public. 

And he was still wearing Blake's ring.

He had to get out of this bed, this soft cocoon of a prison. There must be something, a gun, poison, a knife, a length of wire... but he was too weak to struggle against the restraints. He tried until black and red sparks flew before his eyes. He was on the verge of fainting when he gave up the attempt.

The door opened.

Avon braced himself to snarl at whoever it was, to try to find the weakness that would make the rebel lose his or her temper and kill Avon. Then he turned his head, and his mouth dropped open. His heart raced and thundered in his ears. "No," Avon muttered. And then he really did faint.

When he woke again, he was resting against something warm, his aching back soothed by the press of flesh against him. The restraints were gone, but one well-muscled hand kept Avon's arm still where the line entered. It was a familiar hand. He'd memorized every one of those digits and envied them as they were sucked and nibbled upon.

"It's finally happened. I'm mad," he said in relief. He looked up into Blake's face and smiled. "Either that, or it's a great pity that religion was outlawed."

Blake smiled down at Avon, and shook his head. "You just have to do everything the hard way, don't you?" He picked up Avon's hand and his grin grew. He kissed the finger that held the wedding band. "I'd planned a full ceremony. Klyn- that's the woman you shot, but she'll recover- lucky you've such poor aim- made up a list of Gauda Prime's notables. It was going to be the event of the season."

"You're quite as mad as I am," Avon replied. He didn't really care what Blake said, as he was fully involved in watching Blake's lips moving, in scenting the piney, earthy smell of Blake, in seeing the pulse in Blake's throat... "You're dead. At least your heart wasn't beating," Avon said, doubtfully. "I would have heard it. I was..." Avon stopped, not wanting to describe what he had been doing at the time.

Blake shook his head again. "I've been a bounty hunter on a open planet for over a year but I'm not suicidal.I always wear protection." Blake opened the shirt under his vest to reveal the glowing nimbus of a personal force-shield. "You can't hear anything through it. It was expensive, but then, it was a going-away present from Jenna, once I'd confessed about you."

Avon reached out, hesitated, and touched the side of Blake's face. Warm, soft under his fingers, with a rasp of beard-stubble. His hand went down to the tingle of the force-field. "But. The blood. And you... fell..."

"Sound-activated blood-packs. Playing dead has kept me alive more than once. I really shouldn't have got quite that close. There was an energy overload." He rubbed his chest. "A painful one. It knocked me out finally. I did _try_ to keep on my feet to stop you buggering up the whole set-up.

"Now that I've explained all that, would _you_ like to tell me why you shot me?"

"No." Avon looked at Blake. "I'd rather kiss you."

Blake put a finger in his mouth and gnawed on it. Normally, this was mildly distracting to Avon, but since Blake had chosen to use one of Avon's fingers, the effect was something on the order of a neutron bomb going off in his groin. He groaned and his whole body quivered in reaction. "Blake!" he demanded.

Blake removed the finger and smiled. "No, we'll just have to wait until the honeymoon. _After_ you get a clean bill of health." Blake eased out from under Avon, and got out of the bed. "Now sit up, and make yourself presentable."

Avon let Blake straighten the plain white hospital smock he was wearing, and then he fumbled with the comb Blake provided, too bemused to complain about taking orders.

"Good enough," Blake decided, taking back the comb, and handing Avon something small, round and hard.

Avon turned the ring over in his hand. It was a perfect mate for the one he was wearing, but it had no inscription. He raised his eyebrows.

"I didn't know what you'd want on it," Blake said.

"I'll think of something," Avon replied after a long moment of staring at the band. "Your hand." Avon took Blake's hand and placed the ring on his finger. "There."

"How romantic," Blake said, teasing.

"If you want romance, you ought to have married Jenna."

Blake laughed. "You're probably right. You're going to be the same sullen, argumentative, obstructionist you ever were, aren't you?"

"I haven't any choice in the matter."

"Neither have I. I do love you, you know."

"Yes." Avon looked into Blake's eyes, and smiled. "I hadn't realized that you knew I... well, reciprocate."

"Love," Blake said in a deep-toned growl, and his eyes lit up with a gold fire that made Avon's heart race again. "It's a short word. You'll learn how to pronounce it, one of these days."

"But not today."

"No, I don't want to wear you out." Blake turned and Avon cried out, an inarticulate protest on seeing Blake about to leave. Blake turned back, and the huge grin on his face made up for Avon's embarrassment about his lapse of self-control. "I'm not leaving you. Never again. Just be patient a moment." Blake went to the door and opened it. "He's ready," he called out in a loud, clear voice.

And Avon's crew entered, all beaming smiles, all freshly scrubbed and wearing bright new clothes. There were unobtrusive bandages on Soolin and Tarrant, barely noticeable as bulges under their clothes. Tarrant also had a black cane that he leaned on as he went. Vila was suspiciously unmarked- but then, Vila was very good at ducking. Dayna and Soolin were carrying baskets full of flower petals, which they scattered as they walked to Avon's bed. Dayna was giggling.

"I'm too old and tired for all this," Avon muttered as Blake returned to his bed and picked up Avon's good hand.

Deva followed them into the room, carrying a large, old-looking,leather bound book.

Avon looked at the semi-circle of people gathered around his bed and frowned. Blake said, "The troopers aimed to wound. Bigger reward for us alive, you know. And Deva and Dayna were stunned. I only give Fed spies stun-guns."

Avon decided not to protest any further, for fear Blake would run out of answers.

Deva opened the book and cleared his throat. Tarrant nudged Dayna in the ribs, and she stopped giggling. Deva began, "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here..."

Blake moved even closer to Avon.

"I may never forgive you for this," Avon whispered, in a half-hearted attempt to maintain his image. "You are making me look like a fool."

"On the contrary. You look beautiful in white," Blake said softly to Avon.

**Author's Note:**

> As the President of HEX (Happy Ending eXpeditors, a phrase coined by Nova) I had often (with pre-approval) written positive ending sequels to other author's downbeat endings on the adult Blake's 7 mailing list. (Heck, I'd HEXed canonical episodes, too- B7 was BLEAK so there was plenty of temptation to fix things.)
> 
> In December of 2001 we were commemorating (by writing fic) the twentieth anniversary of the airing of the final episode of Blake's 7, which was the most downbeat, heartbreaking (in an awesome way) series ending. This naturally led to a lot of downbeat ending fics, and my friends generously let me sequel them. I tried to make each of mine actually work as a standalone, but of course they work better if you read the inspiration, too.


End file.
